Power is a Double Edged Sword
by jaistashu
Summary: When Arthur was young, he was scarred. Now, he is faced with the opportunity to smite those that held the knife so many years ago. Will Captain Arthur Kirkland fall from his high position or will he lose all he loves for the sake of power? Warning: Character Death; Very Dark
1. The Hilt

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia and I do not own the totally amazing youtube video that this fan fiction is based strongly on. (** watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=related**)**

**Summary: **Captain Arthur Kirkland used to be bullied and pushed around when he was younger, but now that he is an infamous pirate captain, he has the ability to rule the world if he likes. At first, he intended to wipe out those that wronged him, but when the thought of triumphing the world made its way into his mind, he decided to chase after that instead. Though, Captain Kirkland forgets one important aspect that he chose to overlook; the colonial boy who is always by his side - especially during Captain Kirkland's cruel moods. Will Arthur fall from his high position or will he lose all he loves for the sake of power?

**WARNING: This chapter includes rape and abuse.**** Though, it is written extremely vaguely, it is still there.**

Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 1 – The Hilt

_I stared at the lifeless crimson that seeped into his clothes and pooled around him. My eyes were dull and my heart had finally been ripped completely in two. I would never see him open his eyes again._

Long ago in the year of 1751, a baby boy was born in London, England. His name was Arthur Kirkland. As a child, he kept to himself and preferred the company of what he considered to be fey creatures over that of the older children. They say that Arthur came to hate the human race because of the three boys that plagued him; Francis Bonnefoy, Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Antonio Carriedo. All three of these boys were at least two or three years older than him and they never let him forget it. Francis Bonnefoy was the very first to meet Arthur Kirkland.

It was a humid, summer day on the eighteenth of June, 1755. Arthur was only four years old when he first saw a little girl who was around seven years of age. The Kirkland family had invited the new neighbors over for tea. Arthur did not much care. He had heard that the new neighbor's offspring was three years older than him and he assumed that he or she would just play with his older brothers. Instead of staying in the yard, Arthur wandered off into the forest. It was not a far walk and it was beautiful once the light from the day was eradicated by the shade of the thalo green trees. The fae would fly about, welcoming their young friend into their realm. Arthur felt all of his fears from his brothers' bullying simply disappear as his fairy friends floated about him and talked with him.

Arthur felt very at ease until the fae scattered. He looked all around in the dark with strings of sunlight dispersed here and there. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, realizing that he must have scared the beautiful creatures away.

A voice called, "Arthur!"

The little boy stopped his sniffling and glanced down the path where he had come. He saw a little girl with gold hair. The pastel blue cloth she wore across her torso shined when the streaks of sun touched it. She stopped a few feet away from Arthur and placed her hands on her hips. Her eyes were a deep blue, much like the depths of the ocean. She spoke in a heavy, French accent, "You are Arthur, oui?"

Arthur nodded hesitantly. He had not thought much of the French before, but if this French girl was so pretty, she must have been nice, too. "Ah, yes," he blinked away his tears and asked, "Who are you?"

The girl's cross expression dissipated when she got a good look at Arthur. The edges of her lips curled up, giving off a feline smirk. She rested one of her petite hands on her chest and tilted her chin up in a regal fashion, answering, "Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefoy."

"Francis...," Arthur tried the name in his British accent. For some particular reason, he did not like the way Francis's name made his stomach flip. "Isn't that a boy's name?"

Francis kept his hand on his chest, but his feline smirk fell slowly from his face. He looked down at Arthur again and his deep blue eyes were dulled with a feeling of annoyance. "I am a boy, you ignorant, British child," he spoke with all of the venom that Arthur would come to know well.

Arthur shook his head negatively. "Uh, uh," He gripped Francis's gold hair, "your hair and your eyes are pretty like a girl's."

Francis shouted, "Ah!" He grabbed Arthur's cherub arm and squeezed it to make him release his hold, "Stop it, you brat! You will ruin my hair!"

Arthur let out a whine and tried to pull his arm free, "It hurts!" He shook his head and bit his lip. He would not let this androgynous person that he was successful in making him cry.

"Allons-y," Francis hissed and stomped up the trail, yanking Arthur along.

Arthur looked back at his fae friends that peaked out of the bushes and flowers. He would have to apologize to them for his untimely leave when he visited them again. Arthur glared at the French boy that tugged him along. He would make a special place in his mind for Francis Bonnefoy. Little did Arthur know the rude meeting was quite a pleasant encounter compared to the future.

Francis would go to the Kirkland's house often during that summer to 'play' with young Arthur. The games were often located at the pond behind the house, especially when Francis found out that Arthur could not yet swim. Arthur's brothers found it to be great fun, though a few of them thought it went a little far at times. Scottie and Francis would merely brush off the brothers' worry as nothing much. Arthur would refuse to cry, though. Much to Arthur's relief, Francis rarely ever set foot on the Kirkland's land during the school year. Of course, Francis would ensure his visits during the summer would make up for it.

Those days were bearable. Difficult, yes, but bearable. That was, until, May fourth, 1764, when Francis's friends accompanied him. Arthur Kirkland was thirteen years of age and had developed a sixth sense of sorts. His stomach would feel bent out of shape whenever Francis was about to visit. To confirm the feeling of inevitable dread, Arthur would open the front door to his family's house and look down the long walkway that led to the cobbled road. If he saw the familiar head of gold hair, he would slam the door shut and run for the nearest tree to climb. He knew that Francis hated climbing trees; he cared more for the state of his clothing than his love for bullying Arthur.

Although this time when Arthur's feeling of dread prompted him to open his family's front door, he saw that Francis was not alone. He kept the door open, with one hand clinging to it as he examined the newcomers. They walked closer and closer to the threshold. Francis stood to the left of a rather loud individual. His short, white hair reflected what little sun England received and his crimson eyes accompanied his devious smirk to make a perfect match. His ghostly pale complexion only added to his stark features and made him stand out from Francis and his other friend on his left. The last of the three friends had skin that was a soft and comforting shade of tan. His brown hair swept about his face in an energetic fashion and his bright, yellow green eyes contrasted Arthur's own dull ones. The dark friend's grin and blank stare clearly showed no malice, but it made Arthur even more wary.

"Arthur," Francis's voice had deepened into a man's and his ocean blue eyes were now swimming with lewd thoughts. Arthur gasped softly and looked to Francis. "You usually run away long before I reach the door."

Arthur's mouth hung open slightly as his head darted from each of the three sixteen year old faces directly in front of him. He took a few steps back, preparing to sprint out of the back door. He scrunched up his nose and his open mouth showed his grinding teeth. At first glance, he no longer seemed afraid, but truthfully fear was bubbling up within his stomach. If he said anything, his voice was sure to fail him.

"I would like for you to meet two, very good friends of mine, mon amour," Francis's feline smile from years ago had evolved into manipulating crocodile's grin. An amused chuckle lasted briefly before Francis motioned to the red eyed boy, "This is Gilbert Beilschmidt." Gilbert snickered oddly as he eyed Arthur's glare. "This is Antonio Carriedo. He only recently just moved here as well."

"Hola," Antonio waved lazily as he smiled.

Antonio's gentle expression had a monster hidden underneath. Arthur was sure of it. Gilbert, Arthur knew straight off, was a scoundrel. He should have to be careful around him. If either of the two newcomers were much like Francis... Arthur's glare hardened as he reached his hand to his stomach and clutched it. He did not want to think what evil things they would do.

"Where are your brothers, Arthur?" Francis asked as he brushed his hair aside and glanced around with an uninterested look. His eyes dropped back onto Arthur, his crocodile grin appearing yet again, "I cannot wait until we all play again. Is that not right, Gilbert?"

Gilbert leaned over Arthur, his frame lean with muscle and his red eyes gleaming sadistically, "Ja." His rough voice sent a shiver down Arthur's spine.

"T-They- ... They're off...for an apprenticeship," Arthur stuttered out his answer at first and cursed himself for doing so. It was true that Arthur was all alone. His older brothers were old enough to learn a craft and had left to do exactly that. His mother had gone to shop for food with his baby brother and his father had gone to work. Arthur was never completely alone with Francis before. He had a right to be terrified, but he was not about to give Francis the satisfaction.

"That is a shame," Francis sighed as his fingers brushed against the bit of fuzz that started to grow on his chin, "we can have plenty of fun with just us, oui?"

Antonio nodded enthusiastically whereas Arthur paled. He took that second of distraction to turn and run as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. Gilbert ran after Arthur, signaling for Francis and Antonio to block the exits. Arthur gripped the knob to the back door and turned it quickly. Before the door was pulled open more than a few inches, Gilbert snatched a clump of Arthur's untamed hair and yanked him back. Arthur let out a yelp and fell back against Gilbert. Antonio stood in front of the back door. He leaned against it, pushing it to close. The click of the door could be heard when Antonio locked it.

Francis joined the three after successfully locking the front door. He stood beside Antonio, facing Gilbert and Arthur. Laughing softly, he spoke, "Oh, Gilbert. I think he wants something."

Gilbert yanked down on Arthur's hair again, causing Arthur's gaze to shoot up and stare at the ceiling. He grunted in pain and breathed heavily. He shouted, "Let go of me at once!"

"Demanding brat, isn't he?" Gilbert asked and shoved Arthur forward to his knees. Mere seconds after Arthur's kneecaps collided with the wooden floor, Gilbert clamped his hands down on his shoulders, forcing him down. "We can do this the easy way," He forcefully spun Arthur to face him in such a way that Arthur was only balanced with Gilbert's grip, "or we can do this the hard way." Gilbert shoved Arthur to the floor, causing a crack to resound throughout the house. He laughed at Arthur's pain, "Kiss my feet!"

Arthur let out a yelp and clutched the back of his head. His teeth dug into the soft flesh of his bottom lip and he tasted a coppery liquid that slowly glossed his lips. He gulped down a whimper and quickly rubbed the tears from his eyes. Arthur took in a large breath and shouted shakily, "Bloody prat!"

Fire glinted within Gilbert's eyes and his devious smirk from before was gone. "What was that?" He asked with a dangerous edge in his voice.

Arthur breathed gently to keep calm and then turned from his side slightly to glare up at Gilbert. He enunciated as much as he dared, "You are a bloody prat."

Immediately, Arthur felt Gilbert's foot dig into his stomach, successfully knocking the air out of him. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was being kicked. Again and again, Gilbert's foot collided with Arthur's gut and torso until Arthur finally coughed up blood. At that point, Gilbert stopped and squatted down. He gripped a large section of Arthur's hair and pulled it up to have Arthur stare up at him. Gilbert smirked, obviously pleased. It took a little work to make Arthur's fear show, but when it did, it was worth it. "Repeat what you said one more time." He dared.

Arthur feigned weakness. His body did feel beaten and weak, but it was important to run and hide; to recuperate. He did not say a thing. Gilbert snickered in that odd tone again and pulled Arthur up to his feet. Not wanting to feel as if his hair was being yanked from his skull, Arthur did stand and stared blankly as if he was a broken doll. Blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth. Gilbert released his hold on Arthur's hair. His hand traveled down Arthur's forehead and rested on the younger child's cheek and mouth. Arthur did not want any part of what Gilbert was thinking. His eyes widened slightly when he heard Antonio and Francis walking closer to his back. It was now or never.

Arthur immediately pulled Gilbert's hand down to his mouth and bit hard enough to draw blood. Gilbert let out a yell of pain and stumbled backwards, trying to pull his hand from Arthur's jaws. Arthur let his mouth open, allowing Gilbert's maimed hand free and ran in the direction of the front door. Gilbert bellowed as he glared at the bite marks on his hand, "Antonio!"

Antonio chased after Arthur and reached out. Arthur was stopped abruptly when Antonio's hand clamped down on the back of his shirt. He reached his arms over his head and back to make Antonio free him. He shouted and screamed, "Let go of me! Let go!" He stopped struggling when Francis stood in front of him.

That crocodile smirk was plastered across his face now more than ever. "Arthur," His voice purred, "we only want to play." He shrugged lightly and nuzzled his hand against Arthur's cheek. He quickly pulled his hand back when Arthur went to bite it.

"You play like a demon," Arthur hissed. His green eyes bore hatred that would never disappear. He stared into Francis's deep blue eyes, making sure to capture all the attention he could find. Quickly, he swung his leg up to brutally wound Francis.

Antonio released Arthur's shirt and wrapped his arms around Arthur's torso. He yanked back on Arthur and fell with the younger child in his lap to the floor. Arthur thrashed around, yelling and kicking to be let free. As Antonio pressed Arthur to his chest, trying to keep him in place, he noticed something; something that let out what he had to contribute to the trio of bullies. He laughed softly and pressed his palms against Arthur, causing the younger child to halt his moving and gasp.

Arthur attempted to look back at Antonio with shock deep in his eyes. "Wh-What are you doing?" He demanded to know.

"He is so fun to hug," Antonio grinned at his French counterpart. He added, "Just the right size."

Arthur breathed shallowly. What on Earth was Antonio talking about? Francis squatted down in front of Arthur with that devious smirk on his face. "Pin his arms back, Antonio," Francis ordered as he examined Arthur closer. Antonio did just as he was told and tugged Arthur's arms behind his back. Arthur began struggling again and refused to sit still. "So stubborn," Francis sighed and grabbed Arthur's chin. He forced the younger child to stare at him before pressing his lips to Arthur's.

At first, Arthur was too shocked to even move. His eyes were wide and his entire body froze. It was when Francis was delving deeper into the kiss that Arthur's mind finally came back to him. He shook his head and pulled back much like a cat would do if it did not want to be held. After a few seconds, Francis released his hold on Arthur's chin. Arthur pulled his knees up to his chest and rubbed his lips against them furiously to destroy the memory of the French kiss. A thought struck Arthur. Where had Gilbert gone?

As if on cue, Gilbert walked over to the group and squatted beside them. Arthur was about to glare at the boy, but something shiny caught his eye. He slowly looked down to what Gilbert held in his right hand. His chin trembled as his eyes opened wide. The shimmery tool that Gilbert held in his hand was a carving knife. Arthur's eyes traveled from the knife to Gilbert's unamused face. "I think we should teach your little friend to be more...accommodating," Gilbert held up the knife and pressed his left hand to the wooden floor for balance. He dragged the tip of the knife from Arthur's ear down to his chin lightly; hardly nicking the surface of Arthur's skin. Arthur's breath was shaky and he tried to remain perfectly still.

Antonio held Arthur to his chest as firmly as he could without actually merging with the younger boy's body. "Will we all get to play with Arthur?" He asked skeptically.

"I am sure we will each have a turn," Francis sat to Antonio's right to allow Gilbert a front view of Arthur, "he is a very durable child, after all."

Arthur turned his head to Francis and shouted, "What do you mean by taking turns? And what does it mean to be a durable child!" Francis's smirk only grew as he reached for some cloth. "Francis," Arthur yelled as fear overtook him, "I demand you tell me what you mean!"

Francis shook his head and then shoved the cloth into Arthur's mouth. From then on was a living nightmare for a boy of thirteen or any child for that matter. Arthur remembered the knife skidding across his bare chest and the blurred vision of various points in the house he tried to focus on throughout the torture. All of the tears that Arthur held locked inside of him poured from his eyes and down his red cheeks. He had never known the type of pain he experienced. Compared to the burning, the cuts across his body meant nothing and neither did the bruises or marks. Arthur had no idea how he would explain the crimson that stained a large portion of the seat of his shorts, so he merely burned the fabric once he had enough strength to walk. Every other week was a repeat of that horrible day. Whenever Arthur saw the three boys coming to visit, he would stand by and wait for what was coming to him. Everything was less painful when he did not fight against it.

Two, long years passed and it was May again. Arthur had taken up sewing as a hobby from his mother. The patterns and promising skill that Arthur showed simply forced his mother to find him an apprenticeship as a tailor. The two sat in the house's library one day in May and they sewed as they talked. "Arthur," Arthur's mother started the conversation as she tied off on a piece of fabric.

Arthur, who was a quarter ways done with his embroidery, glanced at his mother and then asked in a polite tone, "Yes, Mother?"

"Are you passionate about sewing and embroidery?" She asked. Her experienced fingers passed the metal needle between the fabric folds with such grace and speed.

Taken off guard, Arthur stopped pulling on his thread. He had never thought about being passionate about sewing or embroidery. He did think it was an extremely peaceful activity to pass the time, but passionate? He thought of all the other things he liked to do and compared his hobbies. "Well," He began his answer, "I do very much enjoy it."

Arthur's mother smiled gently. "Your father decided to have you become an apprentice to a tailor," She spoke as she eyed her pattern. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur frozen and thinking. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Arthur nodded and then answered in a hopeful tone, "Yes, actually. Thank you very much. I do appreciate this. Which tailor am I to be learning from?"

"You do realize that you will be staying with the family just like your brothers have," Arthur's mother tied off her thread and examined her work. When Arthur confirmed he knew the conditions of being an apprentice, his mother continued, "The man you will be learning from is Francis Bonnefoy's father."

Arthur's thread snapped in two when he yanked on his thread too harshly. He paled and stuttered, "F-Francis Bonnefoy's father?" His mother nodded positively and talked on about what a nice time Arthur would have and how much he would learn. Arthur could only imagine the possible scenarios that would come from living with Francis. His body trembled and he whispered, "I'm going for a walk." He dropped his embroidery on his chair and left the room, despite his mother's calls. Arthur ran down the cobbled road that led to the harbor and stopped at the threshold of a dock. Tears built up in his eyes when he imagined the abuse that he would be put through. He clutched his head, remembering that dreadful day two years ago and tried to calm down. He eyed the seagulls and the sailors on the boats and docks. His eyes darted around from the soft, cotton clouds and roaring ocean, to back down the road where Francis lived. He could not contain himself any longer. Arthur stared back at the waves crashing after a ship and he longed for it. He longed for the freedom of the open sea, but longed to escape from Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio the most.

An idea struck him. He blinked and an unfamiliar sliver of hope entered his eyes. Why could he not just hop aboard a ship and leave? Arthur glanced back to the street and a real, live smile slowly grew on his face. He looked back at the ships eagerly and found himself walking towards one that looked like a merchant's ship. Arthur laughed under his breath in anticipation. Who said he _had_ to stay with Francis and his family? Arthur tried to search for some sense of reason or excuse to stay, but there were none. He simply did not care for this town anymore. It had nothing left to offer him. Yes, his parents and little brother would miss him, but he would communicate with them at some point.

He found the toe of his right shoe pressing against the gangplank. Arthur's head fell to stare down at the gangplank and then his head lifted to concentrate on a certain knot in the wood. It would not take a lot of effort. All he had to do was sneak on board and hide until they were far enough away from the harbor. Arthur took one last look at the street that led to his home before closing his eyes. He turned his head back towards the gangplank and breathed calmly. His eyes opened and surged with a spirit Arthur thought had long been gone. He ran up the gangplank and glanced around for a hiding spot. Arthur hurried down under the deck when he saw a group of sailors walk towards the gangplank on the dock. He ran into the pitch black supply room and hid in a back corner.

It took a rather long time, maybe a few hours before Arthur realized that the ship was finally casting off. Anticipation built up within him as he gripped the fabric he had found. Instantly, the adrenaline disappeared when a sailor opened the door to the supply room and walked in with a lighted lantern. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and kept his breathing shallow.

The sailor grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and took a hold of the fabric that Arthur held onto. Arthur, out of habit, pulled back on the fabric. He had no intention of losing anything anymore. The sailor yanked harder and pressed his foot on one of the barrels that hid Arthur. Arthur opened his eyes slightly to see white on the black flag. His eyes widened when he was able to make out the actual shape of the white; a skull. Arthur gasped and released the flag.

After nearly falling off his feet from the lack of difficulty, the sailor pushed a couple barrels out of the way to see what had obstructed his progress. His eyes met Arthur's. Fear coursed through Arthur's veins, but he did not dare show it. He glared harshly and shoved the man out of the way. Arthur ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He stomped up the stairs that led to the deck and halted. Arthur looked all around the deck to find all sorts of crude looking sailors looking back at him. _No_, Arthur thought, _not sailors. Pirates_.


	2. The Grip

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or "Don't Mess with Me" by Temposhark. I also do not own the video that this fan fiction is based on: /watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=relmfu**

Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 2 – The Grip

Arthur's mouth slowly hung open as oxygen was welcomed into his lungs in strangled breaths. The sailor from the supply room dashed over to Arthur and yanked his arms behind his back, tugging Arthur's mind back into the moment. Arthur struggled violently against the grip of the sailor's, but it was much more difficult than any hold Antonio or Francis ever had him in. The sailor pulled Arthur over to a large, wooden door and opened it. He threw Arthur unceremoniously to the floor and pressed his foot on Arthur's back between his shoulder blades. Even with the extra force on his back, Arthur struggled. He refused to allow his life to end without having much more than a taste of freedom.

"I found a stowaway, Cap'n," The sailor explained and pressed harder on Arthur's back.

Without giving Arthur so much as a look of distaste, the captain of the ship waved his hand as he looked over his maps and said, "Throw him overboard."

Arthur lifted his gaze to the captain as the sailor pulled him up from the floor and pinned his arms behind his back yet again. Arthur shouted and tried desperately to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground, "No!"

The captain's eyes looked at Arthur's struggling form boredly.

"I refuse to leave!" He swung his head back to crash into the sailor's nose. The sailor released Arthur and pressed a hand to his - what may have been broken - nose. Arthur ran to the captain's desk and smacked his palms down on the delicate, treasure maps that the captain had been studying. "I _will _stay aboard this ship!"

"You're not doing a very good job convincing me to keep you aboard, Boy," The captain answered in response and then glanced behind Arthur.

The sailor snatched Arthur's arms behind his back again and tugged him back to the door. Panic fluttered in Arthur's chest. The wooden door swung open, causing sunlight to stream into the dark cabin. Arthur glared at the captain when he waved goodbye and looked back to his maps. Suddenly, a thought struck him and before Arthur could stop himself, he shouted, "Come and face me, you coward!"

The sailor slowed his pulling and the captain stood. A new form of panic pooled within Arthur's stomach. Arthur gulped and continued, "Still scared? Are you afraid of the light?"

As the captain stalked to the doorway, a fighting spirit welled up within Arthur. The captain barked out the sailor's name, which caused him to stop pulling on Arthur. The captain picked up a whip that hung from the inside of his cabin and stepped out into the sunlight. Arthur only had seconds to eye the whip before the captain commanded another pirate in the crew to help the original sailor hold Arthur against the mast. With scarcely enough time to think, Arthur was pressed against the wooden mast and the back of his shirt was ripped open to maximize damage.

Oddly, the whipping Arthur thought he would receive was delayed. The fifthteen year old boy craned his head back to try and see why the captain hesitated. "Life's been rough to you," The captain spoke. Arthur's eyes widened when he remembered the knife's various licks that dug through his flesh. The captain rubbed his rough chin and thought for a moment. "What is you reason for wanting to stay here, Boy?"

Arthur answered so quickly, it seemed as if he had practiced the response over and over, "For revenge!"

"For who scarred you?" The captain asked.

Arthur looked away with darkness seeping into his fiery, emerald eyes. "Yes," He answered.

Perhaps it would be wise, the captain figured, to keep Arthur in his crew. The boy seemed so strong after enduring all of those cuts and scars. He looked closer to see small bruises and red welts sprinkled across the boy's shoulder blades and the back of his neck. The captain could guess what generally happened. He gripped the whip in his right fist. He was curious to see what kind of pirate this boy would make. The captain nodded to himself as if to say that Arthur could stay. Unfortunately, once the captain started something, he needed to finish it. He could not have his crew thinking he was soft or incompetent.

Arthur endured the ten, harsh lashes that bit into the pale flesh of his back. Tears slipped down his cheeks, but he gulped back whimpers for the safety of his reputation. He refused to appear weak in front of a band of pirates.

There were quite a few things that Arthur had to bear, but luckily none of them required him to suffer the same fate that the three friends had bestowed upon him. A period of hazing seemed natural and a week or two of not caring saved Arthur from further pranks and harsh treatment. The boy was viewed as another member of the crew. He learned from the captain and crewmates of sword fighting techniques and pirate mannerisms. Of course, Arthur never really showed much result from the two types of lessons and preferred to do odd jobs rather than plunder.

As most of the crew enjoyed their time in the pubs, Arthur scanned the markets. It was there he saw the three, terrible friends he had escaped from. Quickly, he hid behind a cart and gazed at their clothing; they wore captains' hats and each had a long coat to symbolize their status on the seas. How could they all have possibly gained the status as captain? It was incredible and Arthur briefly wondered if there was anything they did independently. Arthur sat on the cobblestone road behind the cart and attempted to catch his breath. Fortunately, they had not seen him. He could always go back to the ship and wait until the trio walked back to their respective ships.

"We need oranges," Antonio pointed out as he picked up one of the fruits from the cart Arthur hid behind. Arthur's heart leapt into his throat as a part of the Spaniard's brown coat brushed against his shoulder. Arthur heard Francis's and Gilbert's voices beside Antonio's and he stared at the street, petrified. What would he do if they noticed him? Would he scream? Would he care?

"Mon dieu," Francis spoke in a surprised tone.

Seconds later, Gilbert took a fistful of Arthur's hair and yanked him to stand. Arthur felt as if he was not actually standing in front of the trio, but on the seas - far away.

"Arthur," Francis's smirk was more amused than lustful, "nine months is far too long to be without you."

"Where'd you run off to?" Gilbert asked and released his hold on Arthur's hair. He wrapped his arm around Arthur's shoulders.

It was quite shocking to Arthur how level his voice was and how he was not trembling. "I stowed away on what I thought was a merchant's ship after hearing I'd have to live with Francis while I would be an apprentice to his father."

Francis's eyelids lifted unnoticeably before settling back down into their original, relaxed position, "I see." His smirk stretched wider, "Would you like to join us on the seas, mon cher?"

Arthur grimaced and growled, "Don't refer to me in that disgusting drivel you call a language. I have no intention of traveling with the likes of you."

"Looks like our young friend has gotten much less friendly over the past few months," Antonio's grin softened into a confident smirk.

Gilbert squeezed Arthur's shoulder, "We can always change that."

Adrenaline pumped through Arthur's veins. Before Arthur had a suitable amount of time to think, his back faced Francis and Antonio. Gilbert was sprawled across the cobblestone street. Arthur bit back a smirk. He realized he had pulled away from the albino and swung him over his shoulder. The feeling of excitement and victory surged throughout Arthur's body as he picked up a discarded, wooden pole and faced Francis and Antonio. He gripped the pole and positioned it over his shoulder. Arthur's eyes darted to Gilbert's flaming, red ones. The eighteen year old boy sat up and glared furiously before his expression was slightly confused. Arthur felt his smirk cock into a grin of some kind as he lifted the pole over his head. He had every intention of smashing Gilbert's face in.

Before the blunt object could collide against Gilbert's face, Antonio ran in front of his friend and grabbed the pole. Francis grabbed Arthur's shoulders and yanked him from the hold of the pole. "Arthur," His voice was panicked, "what's gotten into you!"

Arthur's grin disappeared as the rest of his mind came back to him. He frowned and glared down at Gilbert. He hissed, "This is taking too long."

"What's taking too long?" Francis asked; his hold on Arthur's shoulders weakened.

Arthur shook his head and wormed his way out of Francis's grasp. He took a few steps back and shared looks with each of the members of the trio. "We'll meet again in the near future - after I've finished accomplishing a few things." He smirked, "Be ready." Arthur ran back to the ship before Gilbert could get up and sprint after him.

By the time Arthur turned sixteen in April, the captain and the rest of the crew were quite used to him. Arthur supposed that was why they never suspected what he was about to do. His revenge needed to be obtained as soon as possible and the next step required the necessary skills that Arthur had been practicing. He walked towards the captain of the crew and stood beside him. "I want to be captain now," He said in a voice that left no room for discussion.

The captain, caught slightly off guard, glanced at Arthur. "What makes you think I'd hand over my ship and crew to a daft child?" He asked.

"Would you like the crew to know how you were too afraid to accept a challenge from a mere cabin boy?" Arthur countered as he gazed out at the sea. When the captain did not say anything, Arthur spoke again, "I am more than ready for such a position."

The captain responded by handing a sword to Arthur. He barked out orders to the crew to stand aside and allow him and Arthur to have space to duel. "Lads," he shouted, "say your goodbyes to our cabin boy!" The captain stood at one end of the deck and Arthur stood at the other end. Both had their swords drawn.

"I will be captain if I win, savvy?" Arthur stated more than asked.

The captain nodded, "_If_ you win, you will take my position as captain."

The crew whispered bets amongst each other; mostly on which direction Arthur's head would fly. Arthur heard them whisper and, to be quite honest, he felt no fear. He was confident he would win.

Suddenly, the two charged at each other and closed the distance between them. The captain rolled his eyes briefly as he noticed all of the open spots Arthur had left him. After the two pirates' swords clashed plenty of times, the captain and Arthur halted. They circled each other, sizing each other up. They had been moving at extremely fast speeds. Arthur had various cuts and one gash. The captain, though unscathed, was working to catch his breath. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be bursting with energy. The two charged at each other again. The number of spots Arthur had left open decreased exponentially. He dodged quickly and whenever the captain's sword did touch Arthur, it only nicked little bits of skin. The captain pivoted in his one spot, blocking Arthur's half attempts at hitting him.

They stopped. The crew was silent as both the captain and Arthur stared into each other's eyes. The captain breathed heavily as Arthur panted lightly. The captain's coat was in tatters and once he realized it, he examined it. He gulped lightly and met Arthur's gaze again. Sweat dripped down the captain's face and his eyes widened when he realized that when Arthur said he wanted to be captain, he was not asking to take his place. No. Arthur had asked if the captain wanted to live or die. The captain licked his dry lips and relaxed his stance, "Very good, lad. You proved yourself."

"Don't sheath your sword." Arthur spoke with grave calm.

The captain sheathed his sword, despite what Arthur had commanded. "I said," The captain gazed at Arthur, his eyes threatening, "very good, lad. The duel is done."

"I'm not!" Arthur shouted and then regained his calm composure. "Like you, _Sir_," he spat out the tone of respect, "I don't do anything halfway. Draw your sword."

Without giving Arthur so much as a glance, the captain brushed off his coat and began walking back to his cabin. Arthur's eyes dulled and a new force overcame him. He glanced around and eyed a particularly sharp dagger. Quickly, he snatched up the dagger and threw it at the captain. The dagger sunk into the captain's shoulder, causing the man to fall to the floorboards and grunt in pain. Arthur took his time as he strolled over to the captain. He yanked the dagger out of the captain's shoulder. Blood spurted out with it.

"I suppose," Arthur inspected the bloody dagger and then sniffed it, "that I could get used to this feeling." Swiftly, Arthur dug the dagger into the captain's back and twisted it, earning a scream from his ex-captain.

Blood seeped into the coat as the captain's life left his corpse. Arthur stood and brushed himself off. He licked the blood from his hand and then turned to the crew. "Congratulations, gents," Arthur spoke with his calm tone, "you have a new captain." The crew did not respond. Not one of the men moved. Arthur looked them over and then spoke, "If anyone feels uncomfortable about this new arrangement, you may take your leave," he pointed to the empty hole where the gangplank would be positioned. "Let us prepare to go to port! I have to propose a deal to some... friends."


	3. The Sheath

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, "Don't Mess with Me" by Temposhark, and the amazing CMV "Don't mess with England" by CrimsonHourCosplay at /watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=related**

Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 3 – The Sheath

"So, _love_," Arthur spoke. His words dripped with sarcasm. "Where is my promised slice of your earnings?"

A year had passed since Arthur had won the title of 'captain'. With his newly gained power, Arthur paid a brief visit to a pub Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio had joined at. The greetings were over quickly, if one could even say such a thing. Arthur had stood on the table the trio sat at and aimed two pistols between the eyes of Francis and Gilbert. He explained to the three friends that times were difficult and dangerous and he required a little something from each friend to tide him over each month - fifty percent of their earnings as pirate captains. Arthur, without leaving the trio any room to protest, left the pub after telling Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio of the conditions of his forced deal.

Now, Arthur sat back in his wooden throne with Francis as the current beggar of mercy. Francis gulped as he bowed deeply to the crimson clad captain in front of him. As he stood up again, he answered, "Business has been bad, Arthur."

Arthur leaned forward in his chair and quirked one of his large eyebrows as his frown dug into the corners of his face.

Francis quickly corrected himself after realizing his mistake, "Business has been bad, _Captain Kirkland_."

Both Arthur's frown and posture relaxed before his minor frown curled into a sadistic grin. His voice was free of sarcasm and only contained suppressed excitement, "You know what that means, don't you?" Arthur chuckled darkly as he stood. He was now as tall as Francis with the help of his heeled boots. His hand grasped the jewel encrusted grip of his blade and pulled it from its scabbard. "I _finally_ get to run you through."

Before Arthur had a chance to come within a close distance of Francis, the Frenchman backed away and frantically held up his hands in defense, "Wait, wait! I have something better than gold!"

Arthur stopped his advance and he seemed to have some of his sane mind return. He stared skeptically at his prey and asked, "Better than gold, you say?" He let out a sarcastic laugh, "You _are_ kidding."

"Non, non, I found him off the coast of Britain's New World colonies!" Francis spoke quickly and even forgot his ban on speaking French while in Captain Kirkland's presence. "He is young, but he is strong."

Arthur shook his head slowly and sighed, "Francis, I am not a slave trader. I am," he paused, "...a bodyguard. Protecting you, Gilbert, and Antonio from all of those other nasty pirates is quite a chore." He spoke as if he was talking to a child.

"Please," Francis did not want to beg, but if it was for his life, he would do it, "Captain Kirkland, allow me to fetch him."

Arthur glanced away from Francis in thought and then looked back to him. "Call him in." He warned, "I will not have you leaving my quarters alive if he is insufficient."

Francis gulped yet again. This time it was more audible. Quickly, he opened the door to Captain Kirkland's cabin and spoke in hushed French to one of his men.

Arthur was quite proud that he was able to instill such fear in someone that used to treat him so terribly. Maybe he would not kill Francis today. There was always tomorrow or next week. The longer the wait, the sweeter revenge would be. Arthur was awakened from his thoughts to see Francis yanking what looked to be a thirteen year old boy into the cabin. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the way Francis had kept him immobile.

Francis closed the door behind the boy and forced him to kneel in front of Captain Kirkland. "We found two boys. They are twins, so this boy is fifty percent of my earnings."

Arthur furrowed his brow and frowned as he noticed how tightly bound and gagged the boy was. The only rather mysterious part of the boy was the blindfold that covered his eyes. It was true that Arthur never specified which form the earnings had to be in. He sighed as he realized he had a loophole in his deal, "Very well, Francis. Be sure to have gold next month."

The French captain let out a breath of air he did not know he was holding in and bowed to Arthur yet again. "Merci beaucoup, Capitaine Kirkland." He seemed to have his old, cocky attitude back once he realized he was untouchable for following through on the deal. "Au revoir," He left before Arthur had the chance to criticize the Frenchman's language.

Arthur watched the door slam shut. Francis was most likely running back onto his own ship. Arthur smirked briefly before walking over to his new gain. The boy squirmed and grunted as he struggled to be free from the rope. Arthur rolled his eyes and yanked the boy up by his arm. He pulled him over to his bed and sat him down. Arthur rested two of his finger tips on the right side of the gag and then untied the cloth.

The second the gag was loose, the boy shouted, "Where's Mattie! What did you do with him-!"

Arthur grabbed the boy's mouth and silenced him. Muffled complaints wormed their way out between Arthur's fingers. He realized he should not have taken the gag off in the first place. "Hush," he demanded.

From the look of the boy's posture and the way he stopped squirming; Arthur guessed that he understood that it was not Francis that currently had him. Hesitantly, Arthur released the boy's mouth and reached around his head to untie the blindfold. The boy reluctantly stayed silent. The blindfold fell from the boy's head, revealing the most impossibly blue eyes Arthur had ever seen. Arthur rested both of his hands on the boy's cheeks and stared into his eyes. No, Arthur thought, not eyes - sapphires. He mentally shook his head. The color of sapphires was too deep to perfectly express these eyes. The sky. Yes, the sky must have nestled its way into this boy's features.

The boy's blank expression disappeared and he glared furiously at the pirate captain. He tried to pull his face from Arthur's grasp and Arthur released it. "Where's Mattie?" The boy demanded.

"If you mean your twin, then he's in Francis's hands." Arthur answered as if it was a rather light subject, "He's sure to be violated in more ways than one."

The boy's eyes widened and he attempted to stand up. Arthur merely shoved him back against the bed and leaned over the boy's body. He gradually leaned in close enough to press his forehead to the boy's. The blue eyes stared into Arthur's green ones with uncertainty. Arthur was sure that some form of lust or need swam in his own eyes. "It's too late to save this 'Mattie'." He explained, "Francis will keep him alive - especially if he's a good fuck." The boy instantly glared furiously at his captor. "Look at you - so furious. If your wrists and arms weren't bound behind your back, what on Earth would you do?"

The boy growled and twisted a bit under the weight of Arthur, "I'd shove you off of me and save Mattie from that pervert!"

Arthur's eyelids fell into a relaxed state and his amused expression fell as well. "You're not worried that I may do something to you?" He asked.

The boy's furious face disappeared into a blank stare. His mouth opened slightly before he tried to save face by looking threatening. "You wouldn't dare," He attempted to growl again.

The pirate captain patted the boy's head twice and smiled briefly before standing up straight. He brushed himself off. His serious voice clashed with his indifferent stance, "I would never wish the fate of rape on anyone." Arthur walked to his desk and leaned over his maps. His gloved hand ghosted over the faded ink of the maps' titles. "No, no. I'd rather go to a brothel. I'll be working you hard, so don't be lazy." He glanced at the boy who was currently sitting up, "Otherwise, I'll behead you or throw you off the ship or something equally fatal."

"Okay...," The boy felt somewhat safe, but the feeling in his fingers was disappearing. He sat silently and then yanked on the ropes as if he tried to sneak up on them. After trying for five minutes, the impatient boy fell back against the bed and rolled over. With a groan he asked, "Aren't you going to untie me?"

"Your first test is to escape your bonds," Arthur said as he inspected a distance on the map and then scribbled a note on a piece of parchment.

The boy's voice was muffled against the sheets of the bed, "I can't feel my hands."

"That's not my problem." Arthur finished writing his notes and dropped his feathered pen in its ink well. "If you're not out of the ropes by nightfall, I shall gut you." He left the cabin.

The boy flinched and then felt his knees hit the floor. He winced and looked back at the door closing. The captain was not at all serious, was he? The boy's impossibly blue eyes widened and his gaze darted over to window. Judging by the shadows across the room, he did not have much time to waste. He stood up, squirmed, thrashed, yanked, and finally searched the room for some sort of sharp object. He halted in front of the captain's desk. The knife he saw that lay on top of the maps was modest and dark. It had a peculiar handle and a diagonal line circled the sheath. The boy, taking notice that the sun was inching towards the west, turned away from the desk and grabbed the knife with much difficulty. When he heard the sheath drop to the ground, he sliced through the ropes and relaxed his arms.

The boy sheathed the dagger and placed it back on the desk in its original position. At that second, Arthur walked into the cabin. "Well, Boy," he said, "I suppose you've not escaped-" Arthur stopped when he saw the boy in front of his desk, shaking his hands to encourage the blood to flow through them again. "Not too swift," The captain muttered to himself as he rubbed his chin. "What was your name?"

"Alfred," the boy answered as he rubbed his rope burned wrists, "Alfred Jones."

"Well, then, Alfred, welcome aboard. You can start by waking everyone in the morning," Arthur removed his magnificently ostentatious captain's hat from his head and placed it on a hook beside the door. "Leave."

Arthur then saw the boy - Alfred - grin brightly. Needless to say, Arthur was confused as to why he seemed so exuberant. Alfred hurried out of the cabin and onto the deck. Arthur then decided that having such a positive influence around could stop him. His eyes dulled lightly when he picked up the ropes Alfred had left on the floor. Surely, the boy's brightness and youth would rub off on him. He grimaced. He could not allow himself to be derailed from his revenge. He gripped the rope and allowed himself to fall back on his bed. Arthur decided he would wipe the grin the Alfred's face, but not by the same tactics that Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio did to him. No. He would break him with something that was not so disgusting. Manual labor would work the best.

A few days after Alfred was presented to Arthur as payment, the ship stopped at a rather active port. Arthur dressed the part of a powerful pirate captain and walked off his ship. Alfred, being the cunning boy he thought he was, hoped that his happy act was enough to fool the captain. He hurried off the ship and ran deep into the crowd of people. Alfred stopped behind a cart and caught his breath. He stared at the path he came from, expecting a few of the crewmembers to chase after him. A grin appeared on his face when he saw there were none.

Alfred was absolutely brilliant - at least he thought he was. The next order of business was to find a way to reach his brother. He walked all around the sea side city, careful to avoid anyone that shared the slightest similarity to Captain Kirkland. After a couple hours of fruitless searching for any sort of link to Mattie, Alfred fell into a sitting position beside a crate of supplies. He rubbed his empty stomach as he stared at the apples and oranges in the container beside him. Deciding that taking an apple and maybe an orange would not hurt, Alfred reached into the holds of the crate and pulled out an apple. He rubbed the shiny, red apple for a moment, admiring its color and firm but smooth texture before he sunk his teeth into the apple's thin skin. The sweet juices of the apple spilled into Alfred's mouth as he chewed his first bite. Alfred moaned with delight as the chewed food slipped down his throat and landed in his stomach. He ravenously gobbled up the rest of the apple, leaving the core to rest behind the crate. Alfred rubbed his stomach. He knew that he would be hungry in another few minutes. That apple would not be able to tide him over no matter how delicious it was. The boy's blue eyes shined when he saw a juicy orange within the bunch of fruit. Quickly, he reached into the crate and pulled out the orange. Without looking around in hesitation, Alfred worked to peel away the orange's skin.

Alfred heard someone shout, "Oi!" His head jolted up in response to see a rather burly man. His half naked body was scarred from previous fights and tanned from the sea's sun. It did not take long for Alfred to realize that the man was a pirate. Fear sunk in when the boy noticed three more of the pirate's crewmates on either side of the man. Alfred looked to the orange in his hands and then at the crate. He had stolen from them.

Alfred's wide eyes slowly looked from the crate back to the pirates in front of him before he dropped the orange and sprinted from his spot back into the crowd. Alfred huffed out breaths as he ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. The boy looked back at the pirates that were chasing him briefly to see how incredibly close they were. He immediately turned into an alley, desperate to be safe. Alfred ran to the end of the alley and stopped in horror. He took heaving breaths of air as he stared at the wall that blocked his escape. Alfred leaned against the stone wall and watched as the other pirates spread out to corner him.

Despite the fear that coursed through his veins, Alfred stood up straight and his glare dared the pirates to try anything. Once Alfred caught his breath, he proclaimed, "You're all cowards!"

He hardly had enough time to jump away from the sword that threatened to sink into his heart. Alfred winced furiously and leaned against a corner. He clutched his wound in his side and looked up to see the hilt of a sword smash against his head, causing Alfred to fall against the dirty street. His eye sight was blurry and unfocused as he stared past the small group of pirates to see a crimson clad figure at the entrance of the alley. Alfred allowed his eyes slip close, but he could still hear the bloody screams of the men around him. He flinched when he felt a splash of liquid spill over him. Alfred's eyes lifted open when he felt his body was swept up off the ground and over the figure's shoulder. The boy stared back at the scene. His eyes widened when he saw the end of the alley way painted red and the supplies lying lifelessly on the ground.

The pain in Alfred's head and side tugged him towards unconsciousness. Alfred allowed the pain to make him sleep. The next time he opened his eyes, he was staring at the inside of his captain's cabin. The room was pleasantly dark except for a lone lantern on the captain's desk. Alfred sat up gently and took note that his wounds were bandaged. He smiled softly and then looked at captain's desk. Arthur seemed to be scribbling on maps again.

It was Arthur that saved him. A warm feeling welled up within Alfred when he realized that Arthur actually had a caring side. The boy began to thank Arthur, "... Tha-"

"Don't be a fool. Stay out of trouble," Arthur interrupted curtly. Alfred bit his bottom lip, slightly nervous. When Alfred gripped the sheets and pushed them off of his legs, Arthur commanded, "Stay put. I don't want your wounds opening and your blood spilling all over my floor."

Alfred pulled the comfortingly warm covers back onto his body and gripped the edges of the covers. Alfred tried to thank Arthur again. "Thank you," he said, slight frustration strained his tone.

"You're my property," Arthur stated as he took out a compass and placed it on the map he was currently working on. "How would it look if I didn't take care of it?"

A glare formed on Alfred's face as his frustration deepened. He knew he was not property and he was not about to be okay with being thought of as currency. Alfred leaned back down on the bed and nuzzled his head into the pillow. _Fine_, Alfred thought. If Arthur was convinced that he was just property, he would be sure not to thank him. In fact, he would make Arthur thank _him_ for bringing light onto his stupid ship. Alfred would work hard. He planned to accept any and all of Arthur's tasks to prove that he was human enough to not be considered as property. He spent the rest of his moments awake trying to make a hole in the wall with his frustrated stare.

Alfred did each and every job given to him with the upmost effort just to spite his captain. The lack of recognition or negative comments from Arthur only drove Alfred to be more meticulous. Each morning, Alfred leaped up from his sleeping place and hurried to wake the crew. After that, he would wait impatiently for the cook to prepare Arthur's breakfast. The second the meal was complete, Alfred would hurry it to Arthur's cabin. Each time Alfred walked in, Arthur was awake and at his desk.

It was extremely frustrating to try and prove himself, but Alfred tried every day. Finally, he realized that he could only be a hard working cabin boy with the limited skills he possessed. What was a pirate? He had asked himself. A pirate in his eyes had to be strong physically and have a strong will as well. Alfred knew he had already had those two things or they would be rather easy to obtain. An idea sparked in his head when he saw a lone sword. Alfred grinned brightly and told members in the crew to teach him how to fight using a sword. At first the other crewmembers guessed how Arthur would react and refused, but Alfred soon won them over. Alfred practiced as if it would quench his thirst for approval and recognition. Yes, the boy practiced, but he did it in secret after the crew warned him to.

Almost a year into the training, Arthur ventured out on the deck when Alfred had convinced another crewmate to duel with him. Arthur halted as he watched Alfred disarm his opponent and then bow proudly. The memory of his duel with the previous captain of the ship flashed through Arthur's head. Was Alfred planning on doing the same thing he had? Was he going to lose his status and ship so quickly? His eyes darkened. _No, _he thought. Arthur promised himself to follow through on his revenge. Until the last of the three pirate captains falls, Arthur would keep himself alive. He shouted, "Alfred!"

Alfred stopped his humorous speech and turned to Arthur. Not knowing Arthur's past, Alfred waved his sword around in the air in excitement. "Did you see me, Captain?" He asked, "Did you see me win?" When the now fourteen year old boy noticed the danger in Arthur's green eyes, he stopped waving around his sword and his grin faltered a bit. "Um, is something wrong?" He glanced at a nervous crewmate beside him before looking back to Arthur.

"Clearly," Arthur spoke in a dangerously calm voice as he slowly strolled over to Alfred, "you have plenty of extra time on your hands."

Alfred shrugged and responded, "Well, not really. You give me a lot of work." He paused and pointed with his thumb at the crewmate that he had dueled, "Are you sure you didn't see me win?" He desperately wanted some form of recognition of a job well done.

Arthur's eyelids drooped as he glanced at Alfred's opponent, "He's still alive, Boy."

"It was only practice," Alfred's voice trailed off.

"From the looks of your performance, it seems as if you've had a good deal of time on your hands for practice," Arthur pulled the same topic back into the conversation. Before Alfred could argue, Arthur added, "Let's fill in that time with something useful." Alfred's mouth hung open and before any words could slip out, Arthur looked back to Alfred with a hard gaze, "You are to clean my cabin and keep it clean all on your own."

"Wait one sec-...," Alfred stopped his rebuttal when he stared into Arthur's cold eyes. He huffed and looked away as he sheathed his sword. Alfred walked past Arthur to the captain's cabin, but he was stopped when Arthur took a hold of the neck of his shirt.

"Hold on, Boy," Arthur's free hand wrapped around Alfred's sword and took it from him, "You don't need this to clean a room."

Alfred turned to Arthur reached out for his sword, "Hey! But that's my sword!"

Arthur held it out of Alfred's reach. "Pieces of property don't need swords."

Alfred froze in place. After all the work he had done over the past year since Arthur saved his life had been for naught. Arthur still thought of him as an object. The paranoia in Arthur became obvious when he felt as if he could not trust Alfred alone with the crew anymore and restricted Alfred's nights to the captain's cabin. As irked and frustrated Alfred felt, all he really wanted was Arthur's word that he was a human with a will and not currency.

Over the next four years, Alfred had accepted and completed all Arthur had laid out for him to do and the boy grew to be a strong seventeen year old. He sometimes wondered why Arthur was so curt; so rough and intolerable. Alfred had grown quite fond of his captain. Mostly it was a form of respect - mostly. From having a few years to observe Arthur and trying to find ways to impress him, Alfred had somehow fallen a bit for his captain.

As per usual, Alfred was tidying up his captain's room as commanded. He was the only one to be allowed such a task. Alfred opened one of Arthur's empty desk drawers. He then opened the one directly under it and a thought hit him. The empty drawer should have more space in it. Alfred squinted and then deduced that it had a false bottom. Curiosity took a hold of him and he removed the false bottom. A needle, some thread, and a dusty piece of cloth rested at the bottom of the drawer. Alfred took out the cloth and admired the detailed embroidery.

The door to the cabin opened and closed. Alfred looked up to see Arthur walking over to him. Alfred grinned, "Hey, Cap'n. Is this yours?" He held up the piece of cloth to Arthur who snatched it from the cabin boy's hand. He felt the soft material and a feeling that Alfred had not seen before entered his eyes. The feeling seemed warm and almost sad. Arthur let the embroidery fall onto his desk and he nodded. "It's real nice," Alfred said before putting the false bottom back in the drawer and stood up. He brushed himself off and thought about the embroidery. It was so detailed and so delicate. There was no way that Arthur could have sewn it. Alfred bit his lip and he figued that there was a lot about Arthur he did not know. In fact, he was a little young to be a pirate captain anyway. "Hey, Arthur," Alfred spoke in his less annoying tone. When Arthur looked to Alfred, he went on to ask, "How did you get to be a pirate at such a young age?" While he was thinking of it, Alfred added, "And why do you get a lot of your gold from those three captains?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "Are you finished with your cleaning?"

Alfred shook his head, "Well, no, but-"

"Then finish your chores," Arthur glared.

"But hold on. I just wanna know why you're a young captain and why you bully Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio," Alfred shrugged and defended his position. "What'd they ever do to you?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he looked away. He gripped his mouth as terrible memories flashed through his eyes. When Alfred saw Arthur grow pale and shiver lightly, he hurried out from behind the desk and reached his arms out to Arthur in order to embrace him. Arthur's frightened eyes darted from the floor to Alfred's face and smacked him harshly. Alfred winced and held his cheek. Shock was engraved on the younger male's features. Arthur blinked a couple times before his terrified expression darkened. He growled threateningly, "_Never_ ask me about it again." He turned and stormed out of his cabin, leaving Alfred staring after him in shock.


	4. The Chappe

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, "Don't Mess with Me" by Temposhark, and the amazing CMV "Don't mess with England" by CrimsonHourCosplay at /watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=related**

**Warning: **_**Extremely**_** vague smut featuring FrUK is ahead.  
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Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 4 - The Chappe

Ever since Arthur had slapped him, Alfred had managed to tread off of thin ice and stay away from the subject of Arthur's past. He was still extremely curious, but every time someone mentioned the three captains around Arthur, the man would either grimace, look sick to his stomach, or grin as if he was not himself. Alfred figured that Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio must have really done something awful to his captain in the past. After all, the three captains were very high on Arthur's list of priorities as far as Alfred could tell. That must have been the reason why Arthur had boarded Francis's ship.

Alfred, as usual, was by his captain's side as he eyed all of the details of the different surroundings. The sun had a way of making the atmosphere a bit more lax. The long shadows streaked across the deck from the various ropes and barrels and the sun burned in the west of the sky.

As if arriving at Francis's cabin was his one driving force to live, Arthur stormed across the Frenchman's ship and stopped at Francis's door. The French crew allowed both Arthur and Alfred by, knowing full well that the state of their own captain depended on their behavior. "Alfred," Arthur spoke in his stern voice, "stay here."

Alfred nodded obediently and Arthur burst into Francis's cabin. He slammed the door behind him and due to the sounds of Francis's sudden shock, Alfred could not help but press his ear against the wooden door. The voices were mostly muffled, but Alfred could understand Arthur's words.

"I want my revenge _now_," Alfred heard Arthur speak, "despite the loss of income."

There was something about Francis's cautious sounding voice that made Alfred's stomach churn uncomfortably. What was happening? Alfred pressed the side of his face against the door as if it would help him hear the conversation. Alfred narrowed his eyes in confusion when he heard bedcovers rustling. Alfred heard a pained grunt and Francis whining about how something was too rough. He smacked his hand over his mouth. Once the sounds of the bedcovers rustling came at in an even pattern, Alfred jumped back from the door. His face was red as he stared at the door - the shield - for his eyes.

He covered his ears and shook his head when the pleased moans and half protests were voiced. The situation kept appearing in Alfred's head. Now yelps of pain and French curses joined in with Alfred's imagination, making the scene in his head much more real. Curiosity tugged Alfred's ear back towards the door. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. The two captains could be doing something much more wholesome than what Alfred was thinking of.

"Merde," Alfred heard Francis hiss in pain, "Arthur, I need to be prepared!"

"You shouldn't be listening in on the captains," A French crewmate stood beside Alfred and spoke, successfully scaring the poor teenager out of his skin.

Alfred looked to the crewmate with wide eyes before he relaxed and sighed. He realized that he could find out about his brother if he asked the right questions. A new form of excitement took its place in Alfred's chest as he asked, "Do you know what happened to my brother - to Mattie? He looks exactly like me except for a couple things, but do you know where he is?"

The man nodded and answered, "Oui. After Captain Bonnefoy and the colonial boy grew close, the captain brought him back to where we found him." Relief washed over Alfred's face. "As far as I know, he's still there and he seems really happy when our captain visits him."

"Did Francis hurt Mattie at all?" Alfred asked hurriedly.

The man shook his head, "Non. In fact, the captain didn't let the boy do any laborious tasks and he only hugged him often." He shrugged, "They probably slept in the same bed, but they didn't fuck."

Alfred heaved a sigh of relief, "I guess he isn't so bad after all."

The crewmate nodded in response, "The captain is very...affectionate, but he doesn't do anything against his partner's will." He seemed slightly worried, "He's going to get himself killed with Kirkland breathing down his neck."

Alfred shrugged and figured that it was entirely possible that Francis could be killed at any time if Arthur wished it. He remembered one of his initial curiosities. "What happened between Arthur and Francis?" He asked.

The crewmate shook his head and answered, "All I know is that Kirkland wants revenge. That's all the captain ever said."

Before Alfred had the chance to talk any further, the door to Francis's cabin swung open. As if on cue, the French crewmate hurried off, fearful of Arthur's wrath. Alfred flinched violently before turning to Arthur. The man was the epitome of frustration. Suddenly feeling slightly scared himself, Alfred took a step back and saw Francis standing in the doorway behind Arthur. Arthur stormed out of the doorway and snatched Alfred's arm, not stopping even when Francis yelled after him.

"Come back again, Arthur," He trilled, "I hope to see you at our reunion next week!"

Alfred decided to allow Arthur to yank him back on to his ship without a word. Only when the two entered Arthur's cabin did the captain release Alfred's arm. Alfred pressed the door closed as Arthur began another Francis induced rant, "That backfired completely! He's just a perverted bastard!"

Hearing this, Alfred blinked blankly and then felt the need to set Arthur straight, "Hold on, Arthur, he didn't hurt Mattie. That's what I heard from one of the crewmates." A smile appeared on the teenager's face, "He even dropped him off back at home." He felt wary when Arthur stomped over to him and glared into his eyes.

"Are you suggesting that I'm lying?" He hissed furiously.

Alfred's eyes widened as he hurriedly tried to calm Arthur down, "No, no-!"

"That's exactly what it sounds like!" The rant had turned into an interrogation. "Why are you defending that bastard? Did he touch you before he gave you to me?" Arthur shoved Alfred onto the bed and leaned over him, his hands gripping the edges of Alfred's trousers.

Alfred gasped before pushing Arthur off of him, "No!" He shouted, "Francis didn't touch me!" He then paused and narrowed his eyes, "And what's this about 'gave'? I can't be given to anyone! I'm a human being!"

The anger that surrounded Arthur seemed to relax as he spoke, "No, you're mine. As a part of mine and Francis's deal, he is to give me fifty percent of his earnings every month." He explained, "When Francis stole you and your brother, you both lost your rights as human beings. You _belong_ to me."

Alfred scoffed and gripped the bed sheets. He opened his mouth to let a string of retorts roll from his lips. Before a solitary word had the chance to escape, Arthur forcefully clamped his hand over Alfred's mouth. After a few moments, Arthur spoke with strong restraint, "Be a good boy and fetch me some rum." He curtly walked to his desk and ran a hand over his maps.

Alfred stood and hurried to the door of the cabin. He rested his hand on the doorknob and halted, glancing back at Arthur.

Arthur did not speak and merely lifted his gaze from the worn maps to Alfred's brilliant blue eyes. Without a word of argument, Alfred left the cabin, leaving Arthur to his maps.

Arthur allowed his gaze to fall back to the black ink scribbled across continents. _Such a magnificently naive boy_, Arthur thought. He took up his quill and scraped an 'X' over a popular port. He would be free as soon as he wiped out the three demons of his past. Alfred was already blissfully unaware of how cruel the world really was. He never had to worry about becoming a play thing. Arthur, on the other hand, knew how the world really worked. Perhaps that was why he had grown so strict and arbitrary.

"Soon," Arthur's voice was just above a whisper, "soon I will have my power back that they've stolen."


	5. The Fuller

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, "Don't Mess with Me" by Temposhark, and the amazing CMV "Don't mess with England" by CrimsonHourCosplay at /watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=related**

Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 5 – The Fuller

The murky waters complimented the foggy air in the harbor. Alfred personally felt nervous from the eerie atmosphere, but the jolly laughter from the pubs seemed to keep him calm enough to walk beside Arthur. Arthur, on the other hand, was driven by the thought of soon being able to meet up with Gilbert. Alfred allowed his captain to lead, trusting in his ability of knowing where to go.

Arthur walked into a rather loud inn. Alfred followed closely as he watched the other pirates and sailors curse, laugh, and drink. Arthur acted as if he owned the building whereas Alfred seemed as if he was not meant to be there. The two walked upstairs. Once they reached the second floor, Arthur turned the corner and strolled down the dark hallway to a specific room.

When he stopped at a door at the end of the hall, Arthur turned to Alfred and said, "Knock on the door if you see anyone coming."

Alfred, feeling a bit wary of the whole visit, nodded hesitantly. Would this visit be the same as the one with Francis? He hoped not. He did not want to see Arthur wracked with frustration and anger again.

Arthur eyed Alfred's displeased expression. No doubt the boy was uncomfortable with the situation. The captain's hand lifted with the brief intention of comforting Alfred, but it stopped midway and formed a fist. Arthur looked away with a stern expression. What was he thinking? The way Alfred felt about anything did not matter. The only thing that mattered was confronting Gilbert. Arthur shook his head to rid himself of any thoughts unrelated to Gilbert and then hurried into the room. He closed the door behind him and Alfred could hear the door lock.

Alfred stood beside the door and pressed his ear to the crack between the door and wall.

"Arthur," Alfred heard Gilbert address the captain with an amused tone, "You wanted to discuss business in person, I see." The man snickered.

Alfred heard Arthur's eerily calm voice, "You forgot to send me my fifty percent last month."

"Why don't you smile?" Gilbert asked. Arthur said nothing as far as Alfred could hear. Someone sighed. Alfred assumed it was Gilbert again. "I don't feel like giving you my gold anymore. I'm too good to submit to some dirty thing like you."

There was a long pause and a bit of nervous tapping. Alfred stared at the floor, confused, as he tried to listen in on the conversation. His heart nearly leaped out of his throat when a body slammed against the door. Alfred gripped the chest of his shirt and continued to listen in.

Gilbert shouted, "We were just kids then! You should be flattered that I took the time to pay special attention to you!"

Arthur hissed, "I was only thirteen and you're scum." Alfred's eyes widened and he pressed his ear to the door. Finally he would know why Arthur hated the three captains - or at least he would know why he hated Gilbert.

"Calm down, Artie," Alfred heard Gilbert's quick attempts at trying to calm Arthur's wrath, "this isn't a big deal! Get over it!"

There was a pause in the chatter on the first floor and then a cheer. Alfred took his attention away from the wooden door and ran over to the stairs. He peered over the banister to look into the first floor tavern. His eyes widened when he saw both Francis and Antonio finishing off their drinks. Alfred rushed back to Gilbert's room and knocked on the door as fast as he could.

Gilbert's frantic talking ceased and Arthur spoke, "Ah, it looks like our time is done. We'll meet again, Gilbert," Arthur paused, "in Hell." A sword shot through the wood of the door and halted a few inches away from Alfred's eyes. Blood dripped down the blade. Alfred covered his mouth and fell against the wall behind him. "Look away, Alfred," Arthur said in a level tone. Alfred clamped his eyes closed and listened as Arthur opened the door and yanked his sword from it. The sound of a body falling to the floor sent a shiver down Alfred's spine. Once Arthur closed the door again, Alfred opened his eyes. Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand and ran with him past the stairs. He pressed against the wall in the thick shadows and Alfred leaned against the wall beside him.

Just as the two hid, both Francis and Antonio walked up the stairs, swapping stories of the past few weeks as they progressed. Once they reached the halfway point between the stairs and Gilbert's door, they stopped their talking. Panic and worry laced the air about them as Francis and Antonio ran to the door and yanked it open. Alfred could hear Francis and Antonio's shocked cries as Arthur grabbed his arm and sprinted down the stairs. Francis's yell followed the two out of the tavern and into the night: "_Kirkland_!"

The two did not stop running until they were safe in Arthur's cabin. He released Alfred's arm and leaned on his desk, catching his breath. Alfred pressed his back against the door and allowed it to close. Once his breath was back, Alfred asked hesitantly, "Why did you kill him?"

Arthur circled his desk and opened one of the desk's drawers. "Personal reasons," He answered as he pulled out a bottle of rum.

Alfred's eyes narrowed lightly when he responded, "But he wronged you around nine years ago."

"Did I not tell you never to ask me this again? I seem to have trouble remembering." Arthur's cold stare dissuaded Alfred from speaking about the matter any further.

Alfred's narrowed eyes relaxed and he looked away from his captain. "Never mind," He spoke softly.


	6. The Foible

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, "Don't Mess with Me" by Temposhark, and the amazing CMV "Don't mess with England" by CrimsonHourCosplay at /watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=related**

Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 6 – The Foible

Arthur's eyes opened quickly. The room was silent, save for Alfred's soft snore. The light from the moon snaked through the windows, casting dark shadows across the room. Arthur tilted his head up to view the ceiling. The creaking from the wooden ceiling indicated someone's presence on the upper deck. Arthur climbed out of bed swiftly and quietly. He slipped his coat on over his shoulders and snatched up his sword. He glanced back at Alfred's sleeping frame before leaving the cabin and venturing up to the wheel.

Alfred's bright blue eyes slowly peaked open. He sat up and blinked blankly when he realized that Arthur was gone. The creaking in the ceiling moved with the intruder's reaction to seeing Arthur. Alfred hurried out of bed and out of the cabin. He heard the voice of Arthur and the French accent of Francis. Alfred snuck over to the stairs to the upper deck and peered over the top step to see the two captains conversing.

Francis's expression gave off a feeling of pure fury. "We were sixteen," He hissed, "We were wrong for doing what we did!"

Alfred gripped the top stair when he saw the anger and hurt buried within Francis's eyes - the hurt that the French captain would never see the color of his friend's energetic, crimson eyes again. A pain of sympathy welled up within Alfred's heart.

"You're mad, Arthur!" Francis growled and gripped the hilt of his sword.

Alfred's eyes widened in fear. He had never known his captain to lose a duel, but he had never seen Francis fight. Alfred looked to Arthur's back. The man had not even flinched or backed away. His mouth hung open slightly when he saw Arthur's shoulders shaking.

Alfred could see Francis's furious expression grow darker. He asked in a low tone, "Is something funny?"

"Yes," Arthur spoke as if he was talking about daily tasks, "but you wouldn't understand." Arthur cradled his sword's hilt in his fingers and drew his blade. "Shall we begin?"

Francis yanked his sword from its sheath and prepared himself, "Oui."

Alfred's fingernails dug into the wooden steps as he watched the duel. Arthur's sword bit and tore at Francis's intricately sewn coat, but the fashionable man scarcely cared. He was far too focused on trying to run Arthur through. Arthur watched Francis's sword cut through the air, supplied with blind fury. Of course, the captain took this to his advantage. Arthur dodged and decorated Francis with various cuts and tears until his clothing was smeared with red. In one last concentrated attack, Arthur knocked Francis's sword from his hand. Francis wobbled on his two feet, panting and glaring at the man he once abused.

Arthur circled his prey and spoke condescendingly, "My, my, it seems as if I'll lose another source of income."

"'Source of income'?" Francis shouted and moved to tackle Arthur. Before Francis had the chance to advance, Arthur dragged his sword across Francis's chest, but not deep enough to be fatal. Blood leaped from the long wound and settled on Arthur's clothing and face. Francis fell to his hands and knees and coughed violently.

Arthur's voice grew darker, "_Dear_ friend, it seems as if our times together have come to an end." Adrenaline forced its way throughout Arthur's veins. He could hardly stand the agonizing wait, but urged himself to go slow and enjoy the moment.

"You're mad," Francis repeated his earlier statement with limited breath.

"Oh?" Arthur stopped circling Francis and stood beside him, "As soon as I'm done with you and your last, little friend, I'll finally be free of your past crimes against me. It sounds quite logical to me."

Francis gripped the wooden railing and pulled himself up. He wheezed, "Your revenge, mon ami. It has," He coughed and gripped his bloody chest in pain, "I-it has captured you and blinded you." He stared into Arthur's eyes. "And for that you are mad-" Francis gasped as Arthur's sword shot through his heart.

Arthur yanked his sword out of Francis's chest, red trailing after the blade and shoved the Frenchman's body over the back side of the ship. Arthur swung his sword to the side. Beads of blood shot off the blade and landed against the floorboards. He leaned over the edge of the wooden railing and smirked at the ripples in the water. "Two down," Arthur chuckled darkly to himself, "one to go."

Alfred rested his head against one of the stairs, trying to calm himself. He felt as if he could not breathe in deeply enough. He looked back at Arthur's frame and took notice of him turning around. Gasping silently, he hurried back down in to the cabin. Alfred jumped onto the bed and yanked the covers up over his shoulder. He halted his movements seconds before Arthur pushed the door to the cabin open and strolled in. Alfred kept his eyes clamped shut as he heard Arthur strike a match and walk about the cabin.

"Alfred," Arthur spoke levelly.

Alfred did not dare respond.

"I know you're awake," Arthur said as he placed the lit candle on his desk. When Alfred only breathed carefully and continued to stay silent, Arthur continued, "Look at me if you must."

Alfred contemplated on opening his eyes, but decided to stay 'asleep'. He shifted his body slightly to make his performance more believable.

Arthur stormed over to the bed and gripped Alfred's shoulder. He yanked the teenager over onto his back and then snatched his chin, forcing the teenager to face Arthur. "Open your eyes," He commanded in a tone that left no room for argument.

Alfred decided to open his eyes slowly, but as soon as he saw Arthur, his eyes widened involuntarily. Blood was spotted across Arthur's face and it dripped down his chest. "Do you see me?" Arthur asked, "Do you see the red?" His eyes were dulled in a false sense of calm.

Alfred answered breathlessly, "…Yes."

Arthur's grip on Alfred's chin softened slightly as he asked, "Do you know what the red stands for?" Alfred stayed in a scared silence. "Power, Love," Arthur answered, "Power over everything." He spoke as if his topic was a sacred thing.

Alfred's only response was the fear nestled deep within his eyes.

Arthur waited a few moments before speaking again, "Don't you like it?" Arthur released Alfred's chin and rubbed his right thumb over Alfred's left cheek, smearing blood over the soft curve of Alfred's flesh, "Don't you feel it? The power…"

Alfred shivered from the touch and squeezed his eyes closed. "Francis's blood," He choked out.

Arthur finished, "Is a symbol of my rule…" His voice trailed off once he realized that Alfred was shaking. Arthur's eyes widened slightly as he gathered his sanity again. Arthur took a clean cloth and wiped the blood from Alfred's cheek. He walked about the cabin again, stripping off the bloody clothing. Arthur wiped the red from his face, hands, and chest until there was no blood in sight. He hesitantly walked over to the bed and stared down at Alfred. Arthur's voice was far softer than it had been, "Alfred, did you fall asleep?"

Without opening his eyes, Alfred whispered, "Please stop killing innocent people."

Arthur glared lightly and his voice gave off a slight hiss, "They're guilty and filthy."

Alfred only turned on his side to face away from Arthur and nuzzled into the comfort of one of the bed's pillows.

Arthur paused and returned to the rare, gentle tone, "… I'm sorry for frightening you. That was never my intention." When Alfred said nothing, Arthur blew out the candle and climbed back into bed. He hesitantly ran his fingers through Alfred's hair. Almost immediately, Alfred turned to face Arthur, wrapped his arms around his torso, and buried his face in Arthur's chest. Arthur, being quite unaccustomed to being clung to, was initially shocked, but he allowed Alfred to cling. He must have been rather frightened of how Arthur had handled the duel. He glared at the wall opposite of him and remembered Francis's words. He would never allow himself to be captured by revenge. He could control the power. A small smirk appeared on his face. Who had the right to call him blind and trapped?


	7. The Scabbard

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers or "Don't Mess with Me" by Temposhark. I also do not own the video that this fan fiction is based on: /watch?v=eNRmk0RlBiE&feature=relmfu**

**Final chapter! Thank you guys for putting up with me. Before you begin, let me just inform you that I went ahead and edited all the previous chapters. I took out their kiss because it seemed excessive and I prefer a really strong relationship between both Arthur and Alfred that is platonic. I also got rid of that ridiculous freedom/trapped jargon as well. So if you want to experience the fan fiction at full force, just go back and reread it all and such. **

Power is a Double Edged Sword

Chapter 7 – The Scabbard

While Arthur barked orders to his crew, Alfred worried. His captain was becoming frightfully impatient. Sometimes he wondered what had happened to the man that had saved his life a few years ago. Had Arthur always been so curt and irritable?

"Alfred," Arthur hissed, jolting Alfred from his thoughts, "If you haven't gone deaf, go fetch Carriedo."

Alfred blinked blankly as he watched his captain storm into his cabin, leaving Alfred with his order. Alfred hurried down to the brig. He did not suspect that Arthur would harm him for being slow - at least that was what his initial thought was. He was not really sure of anything anymore.

Alfred stood in front of the iron bars that held in Captain Carriedo. He remembered how the Spanish captain looked when he saw the man for the first time; strong, confident, and calculating. Now he looked physically weak, but his gaze seemed to be wiser than it once was.

Arthur had captured the man a week or so after he had skewered Francis. His excuse was late payment. Personally, Alfred felt Antonio's capture was unfair since Arthur had waited at least three weeks longer for Gilbert than he had for Antonio.

Alfred stared into Antonio's green eyes. The yellow flecks swam around within the emerald irises as embers would in a flame. Both Alfred and Antonio stayed silent as Alfred unlocked the cell's door. Alfred stopped staring once he began wrapping chains around Antonio's wrists.

Alfred flinched when he heard Antonio speak, "Niño."

Alfred's head tilted up slightly and halted. He did not want to see Antonio's expression. He did not want to remember that it was likely he was leading the man to his death. "Alfred," He answered quietly, "My name is Alfred."

"What is it you are doing aboard Arthur's ship?" Antonio asked and allowed Alfred to lock the chains.

"I was giv-," Alfred paused. As much as he hated to admit it, he continued, "I was given to him…as payment."

Antonio continued to question Alfred, "Do you agree with all that Arthur does?" Alfred's hands rested on the cold binds. He bit his lip in concentration. "I see," Antonio assumed what Alfred's answer was. "Do you know what will happen?"

"I want to know what _did_ happen," Alfred answered abruptly and stared back into Antonio's eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he glanced away and spoke a bit quieter, "I… I want to understand why Arthur thinks it's okay to kill someone because they did not honor a deal. I don't think he would do such a thing without a good reason."

Alfred stood and looked down at Antonio, expecting his long sought out answer.

Antonio looked up to the teenager in front of him. He was hesitant to indulge Alfred, "Years ago, Francis introduced me and Gilbert to Arthur. We did things to him that I – _we_ – were not proud of. I know that we were boys when we did those things, but… We should have known better."

Alfred felt the ghost of a smile appear on his face, "Hey, if you're sorry then I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"Yes," Antonio stood up. His voice showed an attempt at being positive. It was a possibility that would never happen and they both knew it. He followed Alfred up the stairs and onto the deck. Antonio gripped one of Alfred's shoulders with both of his hands just before they reached Arthur's cabin, "Niño-"

"_Alfred_," Alfred corrected.

Antonio ignored the correction, "Do you really think that he will be merciful?" He already knew the answer.

Alfred wanted to believe that Arthur would be reasonable. He wanted Arthur to forgive and forget. "Y-yeah," Alfred nodded in response, "he'll be merciful."

Without another word, Alfred opened the cabin door and guided Antonio inside. Arthur sat in the throne he used when addressing each of the three pirate captains. When the door clicked shut, Alfred moved to guide Antonio. Before he could pull on the chains, Arthur spoke in an unusually calm tone, "Alfred." Alfred halted all movement and looked to his captain. Arthur tilted his head to his left. Alfred glanced at Antonio before he took his place by Arthur's side.

Antonio and Arthur locked gazes. Alfred chose to look between the two, noticing their similarities in expression. Both men seemed shockingly calm at first glance. Upon further inspection, the corners of Arthur's lips were twitching into an almost inconspicuous smile. His eyes were filled with a sort of twisted mirth. Antonio's eyelids drooped, denying his eyes the light of naiveté. His frown was unmoving and accepting.

After what seemed to be years of silence, Antonio's lips parted to speak, "Arthur, I-"

"Stand before me," Arthur interrupted.

Antonio's eyelids fell closed just before he inconspicuously inhaled a deep breath and released it. His eyes opened. He walked towards Arthur and stopped a few feet from him. The cross around his neck reflected the light of a candle. Antonio's voice wavered lightly as he spoke lowly, "I won't disrespect you with mindless beggin-"

Arthur ignored Antonio's words, "You are here because you refused to pay me my fifty percent. Do you deny this?"

Alfred glanced at Arthur in confusion. He did not remember Antonio blatantly refusing to pay the agreed percentage. In fact, the pirate captain was planning on earning his profit just after Arthur visited him. Alfred's eyes narrowed lightly. The whole situation did not sit well with him at all. Alfred looked back to Antonio, awaiting his answer.

Knowing that arguing with Arthur would not only be pointless but dangerous, Antonio shook his head and responded, "No."

"How do you plan on paying for your crime?" Arthur asked. His gloved finger tapped slowly against his chair's arm, relishing in the moment.

Crime? How could a delay be a crime? Antonio had, had every intention of giving Arthur his money after he had acquired it. At least that was what Alfred had assumed. He watched Antonio in anticipation. How could the Spanish captain do anything other than beg for mercy?

Antonio closed his eyes and his eyebrows knitted together with regret. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath before sinking to his knees and leaning over in a bow. His knuckles turned white and his shoulders shook ever so slightly.

The rest of the situation seemed to happen in a flash of silver and red.

Arthur yanked his sword from its sheath and stood beside Antonio's knelt body. He lifted his sword with his eyes wide and eager. Alfred's eyes clamped shut as he turned his head away. The sound of the sword slicing through the warm flesh and the resounding thuds of both a body and a head sent chills up Alfred's spine. His eyes peered open and turned his head stiffly to see the pool of blood forming around what used to be a living Antonio. Alfred gulped and then stared at Arthur. His eyes widened.

Arthur was smirking darkly at his work as he cleaned off his blade. His eyes were clouded and stuffed to the brim with pride. "Finally," He breathed, "Finally my revenge is complete." He ran a hand through his messy hair and strolled over to his throne. "And the world," Arthur sat comfortably and straightened his posture, "is mine."

Alfred's image of the man that once saved his life was shattered. This was not the Arthur he knew. Alfred's gaze darkened and his grimace had turned into a hard frown. He knew what had to be done.

Later that night, the captain's cabin was dark, save for a few flicks of light that were peppered about the room. The sound of waves could be barely heard from inside the spacious room and the captain himself stood at a wall filled with maps and samples of text. His calculating gaze glanced over the yellowed paper.

As Arthur read the texts, Alfred lifted his head to watch him. The boy sat on the bed, seemingly ready to lie down and sleep in it. There were other things on his mind, however. He tried to stay calm, to force himself to stand and pick up the knife he had hidden away. His reasoning kept swimming around his mind, trying to justify the steps he was about to take. There could be no other way. With an inaudible gulp, Alfred stood and slowly crept up behind Arthur, dagger in hand. Sentimentality kept him from sinking the weapon into his captain's back, but he kept reminding himself of the sadistic smirk he saw when he had beheaded his last victim.

Mere moments before Alfred had intended to stab Arthur, the captain spun around and grabbed Alfred's throat. Instinctively, Alfred tried to breathe against the force that circled his neck even as he was forced against the wall. Dropping the dagger, he gripped onto Arthur's hand and tried to pull his fingers away.

Arthur's free hand moved to join the iron grip and his gaze sent shivers down Alfred's spine. The eyes that he had seen seconds before someone was slaughtered appeared – the calm excitement. Although these eyes have appeared countless eyes before, Alfred took a moment in his fear to notice another emotion buried deep beneath his captain's eyes. It was almost as if Arthur's default for blood replaced his shock and confusion.

"You tried to kill me…" His lips hesitantly formed the sounds which cut deeply into Arthur. Alfred had tried to kill him. Alfred wanted him dead. The closet person to him wanted to kill him. "After all we've been through…" Well… Arthur would not stand for that, though his usual quick strike with a sword would not do for his cabin boy. He felt two different urges – the urge to kill and something else. For the life of him, he could not figure it out, but as he stared into Alfred's terrified eyes, a part of him refused to acknowledge the situation.

Arthur felt himself throw Alfred to the floor. The frantic gasps for air filled the cabin as Arthur stepped over Alfred and scooped up the dagger. When his reflection passed against the gleam of the blade, all the possible words and rational actions he could have taken part in disappeared from him completely. All he knew now was there was a clean weapon in the room and one traitor breathing. That would simply not do.

Alfred was preoccupied with trying to take clean air into his lungs, though it was all for naught when he felt the dagger that had helped him escape from death many years before at his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut seconds before his neck split open, spilling fresh, warm blood over his hands and the floor.

Once he seized his cabin boy's life, Arthur stood, fixing his posture and looked down on Alfred with empty eyes. He stared at the lifeless crimson that seeped into Alfred's clothes and pooled around him. Though a murder had just been committed, the captain could only feel a dull relief that another threat had been eliminated. He did not give the boy's body a second look when it was carried out of his cabin. He did not flinch when the boy's blood was scrubbed away from his floors. After that, Arthur Kirkland felt little else. He had no need to.

Finally, he had obtained victory over his past. He cast down challengers and collected all the gold, food, drink, and company he needed. Though no matter how much he fed himself these glittering things, he still knew famine and he would forever know it for all of his long life ahead of him.

But thank God...

Thank God Arthur Kirkland still had his precious power.

**Okay, well that took entirely too long. I apologize for the severe delay in updates, everyone. I really should've posted this chapter forever ago. Here you all have it, though. I hope the ending wasn't disappointing. In fact, now that I look back on it, it's rather sarcastic.**


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